


You're Not Blind Just Because Your Eyes Are Closed

by Kayljay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Incest, M/M, Over 2000 Words, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-09
Updated: 2007-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayljay/pseuds/Kayljay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean expected Sam would eventually work out his grief over Jess. What he didn't expect was his younger brother going to bars on his own and the one night stands. Tagging along with Sam one evening shows Dean with clarity how much Stanford has changed Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not Blind Just Because Your Eyes Are Closed

**Author's Note:**

> Implied incest and sex.
> 
> Big thank you to my beta mayalaen. The story is set in season one, before 'Provenance'. Spoilers only for the pilot. Written for livejournal's hell_quarterly. The prompt: I'm not exactly eavesdropping if you're talking to yourself at the top of your lungs.

Sam was acting weird.

Scratch that. Sam was acting weirder.

The nights he tagged along with Dean to the bars were dwindling. He thought Sam was tired of the rough-around-the-edges bars that they frequented, the customers such places attracted, and the noise that probably distracted Sam when he was used to a quiet library at Stanford.

Then he came back to the motel early one night and found a cab sitting outside their door and Sam ready to jump in. Dean was amused at first, thinking Sam had finally loosened up enough to go and pick up a girl outside his big brother's shadow.

"So you're tired of slumming it with me, Sammy? Off to find a place that serves fruity drinks with little paper umbrellas?"

Sam rolled his eyes and slid into the cab. "I'll see you later."

When Dean woke in the early hours of the morning, Sam's bed was empty.

Dean was half surprised and half worried. When his call went directly to Sam's voice mail, he cursed under his breath. Sam never turned off his phone. No matter what either of them were doing, the phones stayed on. Play never came before the hunt, before watching each other's back. Ever.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean reached for his knife when the door squeaked open and sunlight filtered through his closed lids.

"It's me," Sam said, dropping the room key on the dresser.

Dean dragged the knife from under the pillow anyway, rolling over to glare at Sam. The scent of coffee reached him and he almost postponed tearing his brother a new one.

"What the fuck were you thinking last night?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I know you have this urge to treat me like a twelve-year-old, Dean, but I did manage to survive four years at Stanford without you."

"That's not what I'm pissed about. You turned your phone off, Sam."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I need a shower."

With a growl, Dean rolled to his feet and stepped into Sam's personal space.  
Dean could smell the smoke and whiskey, the faint scent of Sam's cologne, but stronger than any of those scents was the one of sex. He stepped back without even realizing it.

Sam shifted impatiently. "Are you done?"

"Hell, no. Since when do you do one night stands? You told me not too long ago that sex could only be with someone you cared about. What changed your mind?"

"I was using your example to define a one night stand. Last night I discovered that there was more than one definition, one I found I could live with. Let's face it, Dean, Dad's been hunting the demon for more than twenty years. We might kill it tomorrow or be on the road for a long time to come. What are the odds of us settling down once it's dead? Hunting is what you've done all your life, Dean. You know you're not going to stop once the demon is dead. As long as there's evil out there, you'll hunt it. I've tried normal, and Jess died because of what this family does. This isn't the life she would have wished for me, but I think she would have understood why I have to live this way. I only wish I had been strong enough to tell her about my past."

Dean's mouth was hanging open and Sam smiled wryly.

"Don't look so surprised. It's not like I'm going to hook up every night. I'm just tired of bars where the clientele's average IQ is   
the same as room temperature."

~~~~~~~~~~

After that, Dean noticed some of the hunts Sam suggested took them near larger cities. His brother would pull on tight jeans and a tee shirt, then ruthlessly fight with his hair until his bangs were swept off his forehead.

This was not Sam the hunter or Sammy his brother. It wasn't even 'normal' Sam. This Sam was sleek and steady. There was no sign of the geek boy Dean always teased.

"So you want some company tonight, Sammy?" Dean asked one night. "It'll save you cab fare." They were not too far from Stanford for this hunt and Dean wondered if his brother would hit some of his old haunts.

Sam hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said finally.

"What's the matter? Afraid I'll steal your thunder?"

Sam smirked. "I don't think that will be a problem."

"Oh really? Now I definitely have to go with you."

~~~~~~~~~~

Heads turned when they walked into the bar. Dean was used to this. When he swept the room for likely prospects the few women there paid him no attention, but the men did.

"I warned you," Sam whispered in his ear, voice tinged with amusement.

"Very funny, Sammy. Let's go."

"It's not a joke, Dean."

He turned slowly to face Sam. "And you were going to tell me about this when?"

"And have you trying to hook me up with both sexes?"

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again.

"To answer your unasked question, yes, I've always been bi. It wasn't before Stanford I did anything about it. So are we going to get a drink or do you have more questions about my sex life?"

"I need some whiskey first."

"Come on, Dean," Sam said three whiskies later, "you've never thought about having sex with a guy?"

"I thought we were going to talk about your sex life, not mine. You always roll your eyes when I do."

"And now you're going to complain that I'm asking?" Sam turned his back to the bar and was openly eyeing men on the dance floor. Damn if he wasn't posing in open invitation, totally comfortable.

"Christo," Dean said.

Sam tossed his head back and laughed. "Am I freaking you out that much, Dean?"

"I thought this was something you would have told me before now."

"Thinking about it and doing it are two different things. There's more opportunity and tolerance about it in college than most of the places we hit when we're on the road. And you never did answer my question. Have you ever thought about sleeping with a guy?"

"Sammy, Sammy," he said, "it's not like I'm lacking company when it comes to the female sex. Like you said, the places we go usually don't have gay bars."

Sam shook his head, resumed his pose. "Not an answer, but according to statistics, it's a safe bet you have."

"Who told you that?"

"My psych professor."

Dean knocked back his whiskey and motioned for another.

"Does your boyfriend know you're checking out his competition?" came a voice from behind Dean.

Sam laughed, genuinely amused. "If he were my boyfriend, he'd be getting all my attention, but since he's my brother, you just saved yourself from getting knocked on your ass. I'm Sam. This is Dean."

"Alex. Come dance with me, Sam."

Dean watched them walk away and snickered to himself. Alex was in for a surprise. Sam's attempts to dance were uncoordinated and that was being kind.

But Sam surprised him again. He moved sinuously, teasing Alex by keeping them inches apart, taking a half step back when Alex tried to move closer.

He ignored the guy who settled on the barstool next to him.

"I make it a point not to bother the straight guys."

Dean didn't look away from Sam. "So why am I the exception?"

"Because you're a puzzle. You've been sitting here with him for half an hour. No body contact, barely any eye contact, but, the moment he goes out on the dance floor with another man, you can't take your eyes off him."

"I don't know what you think you're seeing, but the dude's my brother."

"He doesn't know you want him." It wasn't a question.

Dean turned to glare at him. "Whatever drug you're on has clearly screwed with your head. You'd better leave before I do something you'll regret."

The man raised his hands in surrender, smirking as he slid off the barstool. Dean's eyes turned back to Sam.

Fuck. Was he that easy to read? Years before his brother had left for Stanford, Dean found outlets for his sexual frustration where Sam was concerned. Running until he was exhausted, getting off in the shower, and there were always willing women.  
He had even fucked men who resembled Sam, but they didn't smell like him, could never duplicate the soft little moans his brother made getting himself off at night when he thought Dean was asleep.

He finally quit looking for a substitute when he realized the only man he wanted was his brother, his baby brother who he still wanted to protect, even from himself.

Sam had stopped teasing Alex. They were grinding against each other. Sam's long fingers were splayed over Alex's hips.

All Dean's fantasies about seducing his virgin brother would never be the same. Watching Sam dance, Dean imagined himself in bed, flat on his back with Sam above him thrusting slowly until Dean begged him to do it harder and faster.  
The thought made his cock strain painfully against his jeans. The thought of Sam coming back and seeing him like this? There would be questions he never wanted to answer.

In the men's room, he stepped into the furthest stall and pulled the door shut behind him. He unfastened his jeans and groaned as the pressure on his cock eased.

As he'd done hundreds of times before, he closed his eyes and imagined his brother on his knees before him. This time Sam wasn't there as an eager student. His mouth slid down Dean's cock easily and slowly. He pressed Dean's hips to the wall, forced him to accept his pace.

"Sam," he gasped.

Dean felt Sam's fingers tighten on his hips as his mouth and tongue worked faster. It could have lasted minutes or hours, a second or a lifetime. He fought between drawing out the pleasure as long as possible and a desperate need for completion.

His head snapped back. Muscles, tendons, and joints strained to the limit with the force of his release.

He came back to awareness and was vaguely surprised he was still on his feet. One hand clung to the top edge of the stall, the other was slick with come and still curled loosely around his cock.

"Jesus," he whispered, throat scratchy and dry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Alex were back at the bar and he breathed a sigh of relief. If he had to watch more dancing, he was sure his knees wouldn't hold him up for another round in the bathroom.

"Hey," Sam said, "you up for some real food? Alex says there's a great Italian place within walking distance."

Dean glanced between both of them. He knew Sam was sincere in his offer, but Alex? Did he seriously want a third person horning in on his action?

"Come with us, Dean. You can always take off after dinner if you're not comfortable," Alex assured him. "Sam told me you never pass up food."

Dean turned back to his brother. "Fine. I can't believe you're doing this, Sam."

~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner went nothing like Dean thought it would. Alex wasn't outright seducing his brother. A little low-key flirting between them, but nothing that Dean could honestly complain about. They just talked. All three of them. He started to see why Sam wouldn't mind doing this on occasion. Finding someone to connect with. Talking about something other than hunting. The only thing that bothered Dean was that Alex was older than Sam by at least ten years.

He let it go. Sam didn't seem to be bothered by the age difference, and, as Sam had reminded him, he'd spent four years at Stanford without his protection or guidance. So, at the end of dinner, he thanked Alex for inviting him and gave Sam his best leer when he told him to have fun. He walked out of the restaurant without looking back and without one 'be careful'. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

~~~~~~~~~~

He lay in bed for an hour before he gave up denying himself and stroked himself to the random images his brain produced. The two of them sweaty, tangled in the bed sheets and each other. Sam and Alex in the same scene. Sam between him and Alex. Both of them touching him, sucking his cock, fucking him, making Sam come apart.

When he was spent, he finally slept, but the visions followed him when he finally dreamed.

He groaned and rolled away from the glare of the sun when Sam came in. Through muzzy eyes he saw Sam set a cup of coffee down on the bedside table before grabbing fresh clothes and shutting the bathroom door behind him.

After a minute, Dean sat up and took a cautious sip of coffee making sure it was cool enough to take a deeper swallow.

Sam came out of the shower dressed only in his boxers and plopped down on the edge of Dean's bed. "Just so you know, I did get an answer to the question I asked you last night." There was a sly twist to Sam's lips and Dean looked at him in total confusion.

"Huh?"

"You weren't exactly using the men's room for its intended purpose last night."

"You eavesdropping on me getting off, Sammy?"

"I'm not exactly eavesdropping if you're talking to yourself at the top of your lungs, especially when my name was involved.

How long have you wanted me, Dean?"

He felt panic rising in his chest. This was never supposed to happen. He scrabbled for an excuse, a lie, and never saw the kiss coming. He didn't fight it. He couldn't. He had fantasized about this moment for so long. Denying Sam was never part of it.

~~~~~~~~~~

"What about Alex?" Dean finally asked when he could finally string a coherent sentence together. They were both on their backs, staring up at the ceiling fingers entwined.

"He was a decoy, a weapon to chisel some of your emotional armor away."

"Wasn't he just a little disappointed he didn't get a piece?"

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Alex and I met at Stanford. He was my therapist."

Dean sat up and stared down at his brother. "Your therapist encouraged you to sleep with your brother?"

"He encouraged me to confront you about your feelings for me and to get you to talk to someone about them." Sam sat up and took a deep breath. "Then I came back this morning and didn't give a damn about how wrong it was. I knew for sure you wanted me. Needed me. Just as much I wanted and needed you."

"Sammy..." Sometimes he wished he didn't suck at expressing his emotions.

His brother smiled. "I know, Dean," he said and pulled him into a kiss.

Dean smiled against his brother's mouth. This, he thought as he pushed his brother back against the headboard and heard Sam moan in response, this was his eloquence. And the best part? Sam understood it.

~~~End~~~


End file.
